


Hiding Far From Ghosts

by goodoldfashionedloverboy



Category: Phantom of the Opera (2004), Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21537964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodoldfashionedloverboy/pseuds/goodoldfashionedloverboy
Summary: Scenes (in no particular order) of Raoul and Christine as they meet, fall in love, and figure out how to evade and take down that elusive Opera Ghost.
Relationships: Raoul de Chagny/Christine Daaé
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

_It was scandalous, how they were sat._

As Christine slowly cleaned the wound, she stayed quiet, embarrassed for yet another scene of strife and pain caused by her rash actions. The thoughts buzzing about her brain pulled her away from the task at present, and her hands fell back down to a bowl of water, soiled by the blood from Raoul’s wound. The splash of it woke her again from her thoughts, only to blink and look up again.

Raoul had been watching her as she fixed his wound for him, knowing she was nervous to be in the position they were. It wasn’t proper, even for an engaged couple, to be about each other when one is half dressed - at least in public, as they were. But he had been sat, his shirt being cleaned and mended by one of the many seamstresses in the opera house. Christine was nervous to leave it, after the occurrences at the cemetery just a little over an hour ago.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, clearing her throat as she reached for the cloth bandage by her. Raoul helped her by moving his arm, allowing her the space needed to wrap his wound.

“You have a lot on your mind,” he offered politely. “I don’t want to seem as if I am guarding you… but I do want you to be safe.” And that was true. He felt he had bothered her like a hawk these days. But since Monsieur Bouquet had been murdered, Christine was ever more on edge due to the Opera Ghost.

_The Phantom._

Her head nodded, her face showing her fear and sadness. Raoul had been the only reason to continue on; to work at this building that now seemed to be a prison. “I wish I had never sang. In Hannibal,” she whispered, tying the bandage up, then letting her hands fall to her lap. “Perhaps you would have just seen me dancing; you would have found me that way.”

As nobody else was around, Raoul moved Christine so she sat on his lap. “You are a marvellous talent; to share your voice with that audience that night was what you deserved,” he reassured, his hand going to her face, running his thumb over her cheek. “None of this is your fault. It never has been, nor will be.” With his free hand, he took one of hers and kissed it, trying to cheer her up even a small bit.

A small smile grew on her gentle features as she looked at his face. “We should get you a new shirt,” she said, nodding her head.

“Why? No good?” He joked, playfully flexing a few of the muscles there, only to wince when his bandaged arm moved a bit too much. “Very funny…”

Christine let out a giggle at that, covering her mouth after. “See what you get for showing off! Let me get you a new shirt. You should get home and rest.” She held his chin gently, giving him a quick peck to his lips before getting back up.


	2. A Missing Ring

_Her ring was gone._

Christine sat, her hand going again to her chest, feeling for the chain that had been sitting there for so long. But the ring was gone, and the chain too. To remember that her beautiful ring - the ring Raoul had gotten for her to signify their engagement - was gone, and in the hands of such a monster, broke her heart. Raoul had said the money hadn't mattered, and truly to him, it probably hadn’t. But to his young fiancée, it meant the world. He had spoiled her in such a lavish way, and there was nothing for either of them to show for it. 

“Christine?” Raoul called out quietly again, setting the tea in front of her. She had been daydreaming again, the poor thing, thinking about everything that had been happening. “What are you thinking about?”

She took the cup and sipped it slowly and politely, her eyes closing as the warm drink seemed to fill her up. Little goosebumps raised on her arms a moment as it seemed to reset her, give her a moment to become herself again. “I was thinking about my ring. I know I think about it quite a lot, but... it was my ring from you, and it’s been taken away from me. It was such a lovely ring, too.” 

Raoul sat by her, watching her with a gentle expression on his face. While it was true he was angry that that monster had stolen Christine’s ring from her, he felt more badly that Christine herself no longer got to have it. He took her hand in his and played with the dainty fingers there, playing with her clean cut fingernails. Whenever he did, she would sway his hands away in a playful gesture, as she worried he would muss them up! 

“I just pray I can get it back,” she said, thinking again, then adding, “but oh well. We did have quite a fun time at the masque, didn’t we? Even though you did not bring a mask at all!” 

Raoul smiled, looking up from her dainty hand up to her face, watching the expression change there. She was just a few years younger than he, though was more childlike in ways, in wonder, in hopefulness. He leaned over to her and kissed her cheek, rubbing the spot with his thumb afterwards. 

“We did, indeed. And that is truly what matters. If you would like, I will get you a new ring. One that you can wear on your finger, too, and I won’t let you argue this time,” he said, holding up a finger to shush her before she could protest yet again. A smile formed on her face before he said, “I think it would be nice to get you a new one. I will do so soon. Until then, finish your tea, please?” 

“Yes sir,” she joked, taking a sip again, her spirits raised for the time being. She did like the idea of another ring. Perhaps one she could show off a bit more, though not too much…

Perhaps....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this and want to see me talk nonsense about these lovely characters more, follow me on twitter at @monsieurvicomte! Thank you!


	3. A Note to Mlle. Daaè

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night of Christine's debut, she disappeared under some suspicious consequences. But as notes fly about - all signed from the elusive Opera Ghost - Raoul sends one himself to his childhood friend.

_Christine woke again in a fright._

That ghastly face - the one she had all but glimpsed before being thrown to the floor - had haunted nearly every dream she had had since she had returned to life in the Opéra Populaire. How horrid it was, that that was her angel. The face belonged to something... far, far worse. Her hands went to rub her eyes, wiping the vision away. Perhaps if she had gone to rehearsal, or had gone to breakfast with the fellow girls, this would no longer be happening. But Madame Giry told the girl to rest. And it was good to rest, yes, if the rest be restful. Christine's was not. 

She got up and reached for her dressings - hoping, perhaps, to get some air before going to find Madame Giry. Perhaps even a stop to the chapel would calm her nerves. Hopefully, she would be able to see Raoul, though goodness knew how busy his life was now that he was older. Being a vicomte was not something Christine claimed to know much about, but now that he was the patron of the opera house, she assumed he would be quite busy. A small sigh escaped her lips as she tightened her corset, tying the cords together in front of her as she watched herself in the mirror. She was not herself. She finished dressing and put a shawl over her shoulder, wearing a pair of slippers as she made her way through the opera house to the chapel. 

It was only then that Madame Giry had entered the girls' sleeping rooms, looking for her nearly adopted daughter that she found her missing. Not again, she prayed, holding the small letter in her hands addressed to the girl. But as she looked around, she assumed the only logical place for the girl to be was in the chapel - and she prayed that that's all she was.   
  
And she was. Christine was knelt reverently in front of her father's small portrait, his votive candle lit. Soon, Christine would have to ask for a new one - it was now nearly a nub in its sconce.

"Christine?" Madame Giry called out gently, not wanting to frighten her. 

Her head turned, a small smile when she noticed who was there. "Hello... I'm sorry I did not tell you where I would be... I assumed you would be at rehearsal and did not want to bother. I thought, perhaps some time with my father would be wise." She turned back to the photo, looking almost wistfully at her father's portrait. How she wished he was here; to save her, protect her from this. He had promised to send her an angel - could he not send her a new one? "Should I prepare for rehearsal?"

"No, darling, here. A note from Monsieur le Vicomte. He seems fond of you," Madame Giry said, handing over the note with a kiss to Christine's head. "Tomorrow if you are well you can return to rehearsals." With that, she left, leaving Christine again to the quiet of the chapel. 

Christine opened the note, gingerly avoiding breaking the almost regal seal on the wax Raoul had used. He did like to be ostentatious, she did remember that. In his scrawl, all one could expect from a man, he wrote:

> _Dearest Christine,_
> 
> _I pray you are feeling well. I do apologize if my offer for dinner was forward, but I do wish to talk to you again. It has been so long_ _since I have, and I do miss your company. Mother and Father would love to see you again, as well. The loss of the friendship of your_ _father to them has never been easy. Perhaps you can come to dinner with us soon. You can tell about your training. Either way,_ _we would all so love to see you. I will be at the opera tonight, and I hope to see you after, even if you have not performed. If I am_ _at all intruding, please tell me, and I will leave you be. Until then, I hope to see you, Lotte._
> 
> _Your dearest Raoul_

There was no reason why, but Christine felt a tear emerge from her eyes and drip to the note in her hands. She wiped it away and a stray that was falling down her cheek. How she would adore to see him again. With a look to her father's portrait, she gave a small smile. "Will this be my angel now?" She whispered, getting up. "I pray he shall be. Thank you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize this took ages!


	4. The Girl By The Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That ever-precious scarf that Raoul so valiantly saved comes into Christine’s mind one day as she was sat again in the chapel, praying for her father. 
> 
> This is more based off the novelisation, as I just finished it! I do hope you enjoy!

_It was like she could hear the violin._

As Christine sat in the chapel, by the gorgeous stained glass window, her eyes closed in quiet contemplation, did she hear her father’s violin. They were at the seaside, sat on a blanket on the sand, with Gustave playing away, singing along. The young girl sat, listening and singing along with her father when a gust of wind picked up yet again. It had been a bit windy, but that would not ruin their seaside holiday! Her scarf flew from her shoulders, towards the sea and beyond. Before the girl or her father could react, a young boy was seen storming towards the sea to catch it. 

“Raoul!” Yelled his older brother, Philippe, as he watched the foolhardy young boy. But Raoul didn’t falter, running into the sea and grabbing the now utterly sodden garment before heading back out. Gustave had stood up and watched the boy, shocked as he had retrieved Christine’s scarf without so much as a second thought. 

The young boy went over to Gustave and Christine, holding the scarf out with an almost sheepish expression. He could be no more than 10 years old himself, as Christine was only a few years younger, but he had been taught by his family to help whenever necessary. “Here... Sorry I could not catch it quicker. I did try my best,” he said humbly with a small smile.

Christine smiled and took it gingerly. He was a sweet boy, about two years older than she, and he had a gentle smile. She nodded and looked down. “Thank you very much, monsieur,” she said, using the manners her parents had so diligently taught her.

Gustave patted the boy’s shoulder. “Thank you. What is your name, boy?” 

“Raoul. It’s very nice to meet you,” he said politely, and only then did his brother come over. The Comte de Chagny, at 25 years old, was his brother’s main guardian. “And this is my brother, Philippe.”

The Comte introduced himself properly, shaking Gustave’s hand. Christine barely noticed, as she looked up at Raoul and seemed to feel butterflies. A viscount. Christine knew the word but wasn’t sure what it meant. “My name is Christine,” she said quietly to the boy. 

“Christine?” A voice came, snapping the girl from her daydreaming memory. Her head shot up and she looked over, to see the sweet and gentle face of Meg Giry. “It is almost time for rehearsal, are you coming? The Vicomte is here... he’s never sat in on a rehearsal before.” 

“I’m coming,” she said with a smile, going up to her friend. “I’m quite excited to see him.”


End file.
